


Penny Dreadwolf

by littleblue_eyedbird



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition, Solavellan - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Steampunk, F/M, I'm taking liberties with world building here, possible time travel also, rating will bump to E when smut happens, ray guns galore!, set before the fall of Arlathan in a steampunk era
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-02
Updated: 2016-08-20
Packaged: 2018-07-28 20:30:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7655647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleblue_eyedbird/pseuds/littleblue_eyedbird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An alternate universe where Arlathan never fell, Solas has not yet created a Veil or led a rebellion against the Evanuris Corporation. Instead he works alongside them to keep them in check. Mythal has not yet been assassinated for her innovations, and is actively scheming something with the Dread Wolf. All the races of Thedas coexist in this Victorian Era inspired Steampunk Universe, and each have contributed some kind of technological advancement/invention to the society at large. </p><p>During a breakthrough on his latest invention, Solas is called away by Mythal for an important meeting, and during the interim someone breaks in and steals his prototype, his blue prints, and his biggest secret that has the potential to disrupt the power balance in all of Thedas and leave calamity in its wake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Thief in the Night

The grating sound of steam being forced through a maze of pipes and gears hissed in Solas’ face as the metal doors before him slowly pulled apart, granting him entry to his private workshop at the Evanuris Co. headquarters. He was earlier than he anticipated.

“Wisdom, I have returned.” He announced, crossing the expanse the room in the direction of his drafting bench.

Tugging on the collar of his finely pressed white button down shirt, he loosened he fastenings around his neck, allowing him to breathe more easily. He finally felt himself starting to relax, the tension he had been carrying in shoulders bleeding out with every step he took. Being called away from his work on such short notice tried his patience, but Mythal was not one to be ignored when she demanded an audience. The impromptu argument between himself and the other heads of the Evanuris Corporation had been, to put bluntly, ridiculous. It essentially was a half-assed attempt to resolve latest dispute between Falon’Din and the corporation’s parent founders, and it certainly did not warrant everyone else’s presence—especially when Mythal and Elgar’nan had much more crucial matters they could have discussing. Such as the sudden and drastic increase in lyrium production output by their biggest competitors, the Durgan’lin.

Solas had made it quite clear how he felt on the proceedings by striding out of the session midway through, after a carefully crafted statement of offense laced with agitation. It had been unnecessary for him to be there mediating a childish screaming match between some of the finest, most brilliant Elvhen minds and Innovators—who should have by now figured out how to solve petty disagreements. He already had a limited amount of tolerance for the group and their abusive reliance on Mechs to do all their actual work, treating them more akin to slaves than service providers.

When he had unintentionally created the Mechs, it was not his intention for the machines to become enslaved. He had stumbled across a major discovery by chance—that some of the automatons had evolved on their own to become sentient, developing artificial intelligence. Upon this enlightenment he built the first physical construct, an operating system so to speak, for the intelligence to inhabit, thus creating an entirely new population to Thedas. One that soon fell victim to indentured servitude, and worse.

The sheer immaturity of his founders astounded him, and he found he had no patience for it. Especially tonight. He was on the brink of a breakthrough on his latest undertaking, a classified project privy only to him and the All-mother of the company. Being drug out of his creative state had soured his mood considerably.   

“Wisdom?” He called again, and stalled by his tool wall, straightening a hammer that had been left slightly askew.

Strange that she would not answer. She was almost always running fully operational, never taking down time unless she was self-upgrading her software. Perhaps it was a routine systems check, she was prone to do that when she was alone. Always making sure she was running at optimal speed. He smiled to himself at his friend’s tenacity to constantly strive better herself, expand her consciousness beyond its current limit, to be the most efficient and knowledgeable Mech she could be. What more could one expect from the world’s first ever evolved AI?

Turning away from his wall of tools, he cast his gaze over his drafting table where he and Wisdom had been brainstorming naught twenty minutes prior, and stopped dead in his tracks. Time seemed to slow as he registered the sight. His heart ceased to beat and dropped like bolt, heavy and cold into his stomach. His lungs fought against him as he struggled to take in air, a as if they were constricting themselves in his chest.

Wisdom was slumped over, knocked a few feet away in what appeared to be an inoperable state.

 And his workspace was _empty_.

His prototype was missing.

Time suddenly resumed as he shot forward, his feet propelling them on their own accord towards his bench and the Mech pitifully keeled over against a piece of scrap beside it.  His prototype, the gauntlet he had spent copious amounts of his time over the past year creating, tweaking, nearly perfecting yet was gone--leaving its holder empty and desk void of its blueprints. It still had much work to be done before being considered complete, and yet the efforts of months of tedious research and secretive planning vanished within in minutes.  He haphazardly searched his immediate surroundings, though he knew that the frantic search would be for nothing.

Someone had broken in and stolen _everything._

_How?_

He shuddered violently, trying to not think about the implications of his technology falling into the wrong hands and how devastating the consequences could potentially be. He quickly diverted his attention to the deactivated Mech, rushing to a stop and sliding on his knees against the steel floor before her. Gentle hands lifted her lifeless head, her body a dead weight that fell against his shoulder as he tried to move her into a sitting position. After repositioning her, he deftly opened her already tampered with circuit board on her chest, where her heart should have been, with careful precision.

Some of her circuits had been damaged, but not entirely destroyed. Just disabled. And only her vision unit.

 _Odd_.

His thief had not destroyed her mechanics, but had done enough to incapacitate her. Clearly they weren’t just some mindless thug. They possessed skill.  They knew how to deoperationalize the machines. This was even more alarming information to process.

He reached over to his desk, plucking a few spare wire casings and respective tools and began mending the damaged pieces. Within seconds Wisdom restarted. The lights which posed as her eyes slowly blinked back on, various sectors of her system resuming their functionality one by one. Daintily, he closed her chest cavity, emitting a small hiss signifying it had locked itself again. Her security features were back online.

“Solas..” Her automated voice called to him, a slightly feminine cadence to it. One she had been so painstakingly tuning to suit her personality, her self-actualized identity.

“ _Lethallan_ ,” He whispered, unable to contain the pain from his voice, “What happened? Who did this to you?”

She gave a subtle shake of her head as if to chase away an unwanted thought, a notion so mortal, that had her features not been forged from metal, one could have mistaken her as flesh and blood.

“Routine maintenance check, it was to be a quick scan, but I was taken by surprise. I restored my systems to full capacity just in time to see her. And for her to see me.”

“See her?” He pressed.

She turned her head and blinked once, eyes switching from a green glow to a pale blue, projecting a security recording on the floor to their left.

Solas watched as a lithe figure descended from the ceiling, using a grappling hook of some kind. Somehow. She had managed to bypass his security system and dismantled his alarms. It would have been no small feat to disarm, for he had designed the alarms personally. The thief landed with barely a sound against the metal ground, straightening to her full height and disconnecting the hook she used before crossing to his workbench.

Female, by the attire standards and figure. She wore a pale purple high collared dress with corset inlaid bodice, the skirts shorter in the front than in the back, shifting aside to reveal rather heavy industrial heeled boots. Not the most easily manueravble outfit for breaking and entering, he noted.  It must have been a cover. A unique pair of goggles were drawn down over her eyes, obscuring a portion of her face. Her thick, golden hair was pulled away from her face in a thick braid that fell down the length of her back swaying while she walked, a determined swagger, over to his bench. She reached for it but then hesitated getting sidetracked by his blueprints he had so regrettably left out in the open on the table’s surface. Her fingers curled back from the prototype as picked up the drafts with her other hand, and he saw her gasp, chest heaving and her tiny flinch back from the gauntlet.

So she understood, at least part of, its design. No simple thief indeed.

The high pitched scream of steam racing through the far walls startled her out of her shock. Her head spun towards the large door that served as the entrance to his workshop, the very door he would emerge from in just a few more minutes. Solas cringed as he watched her fold his meticulously drawn blueprints into a smaller, more manageable size and tuck them into her corset. She looked at the gauntlet and he watched as she made a rash decision.

 _Don’t do it_ , he thought to himself, _Don’t you dare_.

She dared.

She slipped her left hand into the prototype and it reacted violently. It emitted a cascade of sparks before the force of it knocked her back, sending her sprawling onto the floor in a layered heap of lace petticoats, mere inches away from Wisdom. Solas heard an unmistakable noise of surprise sound from Wisdom in her recording and the thief snapped her head up, a mouth that once had been contorted in pain fading into one of shock, and quickly twisting into one of visible regret.

This close, he could see her face had an elongated elegance to it, high cheekbones and sharp chin enhanced by the bulk of the goggles adorning the bridge of her thin nose. A scar graced her left brow and continued beneath the spectacles onto her cheek. She scrambled to her feet, barely paying attention to her ruffled state of dress and stopped in front of the temporarily vulnerable Wisdom

“ _Ir abelas Lethallan_ , I’m so sorry I have to do this.” She lilted mournfully, the anguish in voice was genuine.

Wisdom’s video shut off.

“That was all I was able to capture.”

Solas closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against hers. “It is enough.”

He might be able to hack into the other security footage from outside the Headquarters and gather enough evidence to track the thief down. He had to. There would be no other way. He had to catch her, before she did something incredibly idiotic. Or worse, catastrophic.

Wisdom seemed to read his thoughts.

“You might still be able to catch her, she could not have gotten far,” Wisdom offered, and he leaned away once more to look at her, “She would have to disable all your other wards on her way out. She only bypassed this room’s security, not the entire warehouse.”

Hope blossomed in his chest.

“Which, need I remind you, which no mortal has been able to successfully deactivate.” There was a hint of amusement in Wisdom’s voice this time. She was the only one to have ever dismantled his other systems. He routinely had her try to break them for this reason alone. This would be the true test then.

He stood, helping Wisdom to her feet somewhat haphazardly as his mind raced far faster than his limbs could keep up. She couldn’t have gotten far. Having only fled only seconds before he entered the room, and there was no way in the three minutes that had passed since that she would have made it out of his labyrinth, unharmed at least. The prototype was unstable, and would slow her down considerably.

He was moving again, towards the far wall where his tools were so carefully organized. He pressed a button below the wrench and activated a secret panel beside it. It slid apart to reveal a small hidden chamber. He reached inside and snatched the item he had stashed there. He only used his mask on certain occasions. He stared down at them, admiring the six crimson lenses reflected like rubies up at him in the brightly lit room before sliding it over his head and adjusting the headpiece into place. A simple press activated them, and the lenses glowed bright red. The largest of the six enhanced his sight, two more allowed for tracking and location, and the last two could switch between various settings, such as night vision, infrared, and heat-seeking. And he had plans on expanding its features, but alas now was not the time.

The Mask of Fen’Harel had its benefits.

Especially for when he was going hunting.


	2. The Hunter and the Hunted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan runs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> big thank you to Jinxiia for being my beta/editor on this chapter! <3 it is much appreciated!

She slammed into the stairwell. Brutally. It was a narrow escape, launching herself through the rapidly closing gateway that led from the last of Fen’Harel’s workshop antechambers, her back taking most of the impact and staunching only a fraction of pain from the real source of her discomfort. Her left palm felt as if she were being electrocuted. As if she had accidently torn open a live wire and inserted in directly into her skin, a raw current running straight through her bones into her finger tips. She gritted her teeth as she rubbed her left wrist with her other hand, trying to massage away some of the sharp pangs of shock to no avail. The blasted contraption was unstable, and she was shaking.

Her intel had been wrong. She had been informed it was just a preliminary model; a simple design, a first draft version of what the real device would be. But upon closer inspection in the heart of his workshop, she quickly realized it was no draft. It was the prototype, a last revision of the final design, yet still unfinished. But she didn’t know that at the time, and for all intents and purposes looked complete. Hence why she thought to put it on to transport it. Serves her right for thrusting herself into that _bright_ idea, but she just couldn’t resist. She should have just carried the damn thing as intended, like she planned, but once she saw the blueprints and interpreted their design, understood the level of raw power it held—her curiosity got the better of her. She needed to know just how dangerous this device was going to be before she handed it over and well, in slipped her hand.

Cursing herself for being so reckless, she pushed off the steel wall again and raced for the stairs flinching every few steps. She had made it out of the first sector of the Wolf’s headquarters without much resistance. With a sharp mind, some problem solving, and a little luck, she had hacked her way past his defense systems and managed to temporarily disarm the traps he set to disable intruders. She would have loved to actually get to study their composition more closely, but her mission wasn’t over yet. She had to make it out before the Wolf came looking for her, as she knew he would. That poor Mech, she shouldn’t have…

She shook away the guilt. It was a rash decision, shelving it away to process later. She reached for the slender radio at her hip, pushing aside some of the ruffles from her petticoat and brought it to her lips as she took the steps two at a time, heeled boots clicking softly against the metal flooring, each footfall echoing a subtle metal ring in the stairwell.

“Abelas, do you read, over?” She called, cursing when she only received static in response.

That hadn’t taken long. The building’s defense system must have been recovered from her tampering. Or worse, the Wolf did a system restore. She wouldn’t put it past Fen’Harel to have implemented a jamming signal. She had been warned he was clever. Not this clever.

She was on her own for the moment. Her lips pulled into a tight line, she moved faster on her own most of the time. She only hoped that Abelas did too.

A fresh current coursed through her palm again, sending pain shooting down her fingers and up her arm simultaneously. The pain sent her unceremoniously to her knees. She tucked her left arm across her stomach, forcing it tight against her ribs. It felt like her entire arm was being set aflame. The device was becoming increasingly unstable. What hell purpose was this weapon supposed to be used for? It was a weapon, she gathered that much from the blueprints. She had only caught a glimpse before the Wolf activated his door, but she had processed the gist of it. The device had massive potential, it was a conductor of lyrium. She inferred she would just need brief contact with the substance, or contact any type of technology that operated off the substance in order to manipulate it. What she wouldn’t have gave for an extra fifteen minutes to peruse his drafts and sift through his various inventions lying about his workshop. The Wolf truly was brilliant.

Another sharp pang shot through her arm, distracting her thoroughly. What she truly needed was to get to a neutral location and work on dismantling it from her hand before she suffered major nerve damage, and _then_ work on figuring out the Dread Wolf’s intentions behind his latest design. Turning back to Fen’Harel to have it removed was _not_ an option. Nor was getting caught.

She crawled to the far wall and rested her cheek against it, letting the cold steel clear her mind as she reevaluated her life choices for the second time that day.

A wailing screech caused her eyes to fly open. A doorway was opening. The Dread Wolf couldn’t have been that close behind.

She snapped her head in the direction of the noise, peering up the two flights of stairs she had descended to see six irate red eyes glowing down at her from over the second floor railing.

_Shit._

She bolted.

“Stop! You have no idea what you are doing!” She heard his voice resonate above her.

She scoffed, she knew exactly what she was doing. There was no way she was going to listen to him. She spun around the last flight of stairs, her bare hand clinging to the cool railing as she swung around curve and ran out into a long glass hallway.

The hallway was actually a bridge, a corridor that connected this building to one of the main Evanuris factories. She would need to crossover and out of his jamming signal’s range to radio for back up. She could lose him in the maze of a factory in the meantime. 

A deep thud reverberated through the floor behind her. She glanced over her shoulder and her jaw fell. He had jumped from his perch and rolled to land a few feet away from her. The six eyes of his mask burned eerily as he launched himself towards her. From this close she could see how the metalwork was sculpted to fit the shape of his face, melding over his eyes and bridge of his nose. His mouth was visible and drawn into a deep frown. She anticipated the first grab and deflected it by diverting his momentum, slipping under his swipe and sidestepping him all together.

She was pretty agile, but apparently so was he, for he faked her out. She felt his hand clamp down on her forearm hard before she had managed to take a few steps out of the way, yanking her back. She spun herself around sharply to try and pull out of his hold, her long braid whipping him across his mask and mouth as she turned. His grip loosened as he winced from the impact. She used the temporary stall to swiftly knock out one of his legs, disrupting his equilibrium, and then kneed him in the stomach. It was a low blow, but she panicked. He nearly had caught her.

He admitted a pained cry of protest and released his grip, clutching himself where she had abruptly hit him.  She took his momentary distraction as a chance to reach into a small pouch beneath her skirts, fingers closing around three small metallic spheres. She took off down the hallway at a sprint, throwing the spheres at his feet behind her as she ran. They erupted the moment they made contact with the floor in a chorus of popping bursts, emitting a thick screen of smoke that filled the space between them.

She didn’t know how his particular mask worked, if he would be able to see through her smokescreen or not, but she hoped the annoyance would slow him down and buy her a little more time. She heard him cough a few times before she registered the unmistakable sound of dress shoes clattering against the floor at run. 

The door at end of the glass corridor was rapidly approaching. She threw her weight against the latch but it did not give. The entryway was locked. She could make out the Wolf’s reflection through the smoke in the windows surrounding her, and it set her into overdrive. She didn’t have time to pick the lock.

She _could not get caught_.

Those were her instructions, and her future depended on it. She had to make another rash decision. And fast.

The door was a dead end, so there was only one other way out. She pushed aside her petticoats once more and gripped her grappling hook with steady fingers. In one smooth movement she round-housed kicked the glass window to her left with enough force to shatter it. She stepped swiftly to edge, kicking away the remaining fragments of glass with her leather boot and cocked her hook at the arching metal framework of the building adjacent to the corridor. It wasn’t a far jump, but she did not want to risk it, and besides she never passed up the opportunity to show off personal invention of hers. The Dread Wolf wasn’t the only gifted inventor in all of Thedas.

There was an open balcony on the building where several party goers were ambling about she could safely swing to and push past to disappear inside. She would leave the Wolf stranded.

She heard him cry out to her before she raised her hook.

“Please, you have no idea what you are getting yourself into—“

She didn’t stick around to see what she was getting herself into.

It was a trick, a ploy to get her to pause so the Wolf could take her, and she was not so naïve. She aimed and fired. The hook secured itself on the ledge above the landing with the open doors, and she wasted no time in jumping. She took off into the evening breeze, the fresh air rushing past her bare legs as her skirts billowed behind her was exhilarating.  She released the trigger on her hook when she a few inches over the balcony, landing gracefully and taking a few steps forward with her leftover momentum. The hook disengaged itself and came flinging back to her, coiling itself back into place. With practiced ease she holstered it against her thigh as she strode towards to open doors, a few patrons gaping at her melodramatic entrance. She spun around as she delicately placed her gauntlet encased hand against the metal frame and looked back at Fen’Harel gaping from the smashed window.

He was looming in the broken pane, mouth twisted into a furious grimace. His lips down turned so violently with fists clenched, frustration emanating off him in waves even from this far.

She let herself smile. It was a cold, smug thing really that her lips twisted into, beautiful and venomous. She raised two fingers to her lips and blew him an exaggerated kiss before turning on her heel and strolling into the awaiting party she was inevitably crashing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to rate this as M for now. But, smut will probably inevitably happen.


	3. As Long as the Music Plays, They Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> and fox slips away from the hound

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you to my wonderful beta, Jinxiia <3 wut ar chapter titles

To say he was livid would be an understatement. He was seething. Her coy kiss had more than sufficiently irked him, entirely succeeding in its intent. How _dare_ she?

She was no common thief, that much was so obvious now. Through her dismantling his entire security systems, firewalls, she was trained. That made it more evident that she could not possibly be operating alone. She had to have had help. But from whom? She was clearly elven, judging by the sharp shape of her ears that poked out of the loose tendrils from her braid, so she couldn’t have possibly been sent from a competing company to steal his invention. But that would mean…

No. It couldn’t.

The implications if she were from within the Evanuris Corporation were more worrisome than from a competitor. That meant a betrayal from within his people’s company. He had to get to the heart of the matter, his pride and integrity was at stake. He had too much of himself invested in this to be exploited, especially by a member of his own corporation.

There was only one thing to do, and it was to follow her.

He didn’t have a grappling hook; he didn’t think to grab anything but his mask before he chased after her. He didn’t think he would have had to. Just how many devices could she pull from the depths of skirts? What else was she hiding beneath those layers of cloth? He flushed as he realized where his line of thought lead him. This was no time for immodest thoughts.

He stepped up on the window ledge and gauged the distance. It actually was not terribly far, a manageably sized gap. If he could get a good vault…

He threw himself out, falling rapidly towards the balcony. He landed on the railing with a loud groan, scattering a few of the party-goers from the edge with loud gasps and exclamations of shock. He hoisted himself up and over the railing, dusting off his pants and hands after drawing to his full height. He glanced around him and realized he was going to fit right in. The patrons were all donned in intricate goggles and masks, clearly for fashion and not function; gears and piping were arranged around barrages of multi-colored lenses that were all fixated on him. He glanced down. He wasn’t sporting evening wear like they were, clad in flowing gowns made of the rarest cloth, hoop skirts, suit pieces and other superfluous accessories. His outfit was modest, he would be forgotten about in a second, blending right into the background.

 _Orlesians_.

A thought dawned on him as he sauntered through the parting crowd and into an equally, if not more, populated foyer. If he would fit right in, then so would she.

_Drat._

Finding her amongst the sea of masked figures was going to be difficult. Luckily for him, he was up for the challenge. He pushed his way passed finely dressed humans and elves, his eyes scanning for the tall, lean woman in the pale purple dress and gold goggles. She could not have gotten far. There was only one way out of this foyer, and it was down the ornate staircase at the end of room.  He was about to descend the first step when he felt a hand clap his shoulder in a friendly gesture.

“Well I’ll be damned, I thought you had chained yourself up in that workshop you call home. Fen what are you doing here?”

He cringed. He knew the owner of that voice, and now was not the time.

“Felassan.” He greeted the masked elf over his shoulder, “I could ask the same of you.”

The elf had been his protégé for a time until Solas grew tired of his quirks and sent him off into the world. Felassan became an independent contract inventor— under the employ of none other than Mythal. Which meant Solas still continued to see him. A lot.

Unfortunately.

A shit eating grin spread beneath Felassan’s mask.

“It is the strangest thing, it’s called having friends and being social. You should invent a few and try it sometime.”

“I am not in the mood.” Solas replied shortly.

 “Oh, don’t take it so hard lethallin, we all make friends in our own special way. You from scrap metal and lyrium and the rest of us by getting drunk at parties.”

And that tested the last of his patience. Solas made another disgusted noise and turned sharply out of Felassan’s grasp.

“Go away.”

“I think not. You seem upset. I would be a bad friend if I didn’t— “

“You have helped enough.”

“I haven’t done a thi— “

“I do not have time for games, Felassan!” He snapped, stalking down the first few steps and away from what was probably his only friend. Besides Mythal, of course.

“Well, I guess you don’t want to hear about my run in with the most fascinating damsel in distress a moment ago. She was wearing something quite peculiar. She might be… your type.”

He froze.

 _Felassan knew_.

“How could you—where is she.” Solas ordered, suspicion coiling in his gut. Felassan shouldn’t have known about the prototype. And yet, somehow he did. It should have troubled Solas more, but he had bigger issues to be concerned about. Such as the woman missing in action. His _friend_ could wait.

Felassan pursed his lips and furrowed his brows as if lost in thought, tapping a gloved hand against his chin.

Solas wanted to strangle him. For a plethora of reasons.

“I don’t quite know, she was in such a hurry when she disappeared.”

“I have no time for this.” Solas took off down the stairs into the reception hall.

“You can’t just go around harassing ladies and expect them to give you their hand, Solas.” Felassan called out to him, “You have to ask them to dance first!”

“What?” Solas muttered, tossing a confused glance up the stairs over his shoulder to where Felassan should have been standing. He regretted speaking in riddles to taunt Felassan when he had trained him. It seemed inventing wasn’t the only skill his protégé had acquired under his tutelage.

Solas noted Felassan also had disappeared from the top of the staircase. “How convenient.”

It was even more crowded in the hall at the bottom of the stairs. Several bodies pressed up against him in a current he had to fight against or else be dragged through the room. Servants wandered by with platters of food and drink, hors’deourves and champagne by looks of the golden substance glistening in the slender glasses. There was no way he would catch her just scanning the crowd like this.

He raised a hand to his mask, turning one of the knobs on the edge to turn on the infrared sight. He rescanned the room, the cascade of lights distracting him for a moment. The patrons’ gaudy gowns and suits were replaced with vibrant colors, hues of yellow, orange and red stained the bodies moving languidly all around him. The lyrium utilized in his prototype’s design would register like a signal flare, and he would be able pinpoint her location in seconds if she were in the room.

No bright white lights were registering. At all.

He felt his hope falter; she escaped.

The sound of music drifting from an adjacent room caught his attention, a beautiful, joyful melody, sweet and fast. Felassan’s words suddenly clicked. Damn him.

_She was in the dance hall._

He forcibly maneuvered himself through the crowd, garner a few gasps of protest and rude remarks about his haste. He couldn’t afford to waste his breath to apologize. The dancehall was jaw dropping, and enormous. His vision swam in a warm burst of color, like sunsets that twirled and glided across the cool blue horizon of the floor. He moved along the edge of the room, stalking the scene as indiscreetly as he could, admiring the subtle beauty of it all.

A flash of white from the middle of the room consumed his sight, glowing white hand raised against the orange palm of another. He watched as his thief danced in time with the music, being lead through the movements by an unsuspecting partner. The split apart with the rest of the dancers and fell back into two lines, shifting places with the person beside them to switch up the pairs. She was literally dancing her way out of this place. Clever girl to blend herself in with the crowd. But she was no match for him.

He quickly shut off the infrared sight, he no longer needed it. He had her.

He joined the throng of dancers in the line, facing off with some unruly red-headed woman four people down from his thief. He would have to play the part too, blend in and sneak up to catch her off guard before she could bolt. He fell into dance easily, it was familiar and fairly simple. Keeping a respectable distance from the red-headed woman, he cordially led her through the dance. He could see the blush rapidly spreading beneath her mask when he dipped her.

They split apart when the music returned to its staccato melody, signaling the lines to be reformed. Instead of moving one person down, he moved two, earning him an angry glare from one of the men who apparently was eager to dance with the lady now before him. She was wearing an exceedingly gaudy dress and obscenely large pearls. His thief still had not noticed his presence. He was so close. He studied her out of the corner of his eye. She was graceful, following her partner’s lead and flowing through the steps with practiced ease. She must frequent balls like this often, he thought to himself, filing away the knowledge for later.

The staccato returned and his opportunity presented itself, for she spun right into his arms without a second thought. It was amusing to watch her mouth fall and utter a small gasp as one of his hand found its place at her waist, and the other enveloping itself around the device on her hand.

 “I’m sorry, for I do not feel much like dancing anymore,sir.” She declared the moment they touched, not sounding apologetic in the slightest.

 “That is a shame, I have been waiting all night to dance with you.”

Her lips curved down. “I’m sorry, you’ll have to excuse me.” She tried to pull away, but he spun her back towards him in time with the music. She was stuck.

“If you wish to leave, allow me to escort you, Miss…?”

She gave him a flat stare. “I changed my mind. I feel like dancing.”

“Ma Nuvenin.” He said with a slight inclination of his head.

He pulled them deeper into the dance, forcing them out of the established line progression so that they were dancing freely on the floor.

“You can’t do anything to me in public, think of the scene you will create!” She hissed at him as he brought her flush against him.

“Think of the rumors that will spread of our ill-mannered behavior if I neglected my social graces as a proper gentleman and did not walk you home.” He retorted, studying the metal work on the goggles obscuring her eyes. Peculiar.

“What kind of gentleman stalks a lady through a party?”

“The kind who wants the return of his stolen property and reparations for the damage caused.”

She huffed and allowed herself to be spun again, falling back in step with him. “Well, I have the misfortune of informing you that you will be receiving neither tonight.”

“What makes you so certain I will not?” He tightened his grasp on her hand wearing his device. He was so close he could just attempt to pull it off right here, right now.

But the way she flinched, mouth twisting into a grimace as he held her hand suspended between them, stopped him.

He was hurting her.

He immediately loosened his grip and she visibly relaxed.

“You can’t remove it…can you?”

She remained stubbornly silent.

_No. No, no no._

“It couldn’t have bound itself to your skin, you shouldn’t have been able to…” His mind was racing once again, not quite present in the dance anymore, though his body continued to lead her through the motions.

“Able to what?”

The fact it fused with her was mind blowing, and now posed as another problem to add to his growing list.

“Able to what, Fen’Harel.” She said between gritted teeth when he didn’t answer. This time her question came out harsh, and cold.

“You must return with me.” He insisted, steering her back to the reception room.

She barked a cruel laugh and put up resistance, still managing to step in tempo. “Absolutely not.”

“You do not understand, and I have no time to explain the consequen— “

“Fen’Harel!” A voice boomed behind him, startling both of them and causing them to bump into each other, “I daren’t believe it! Felassan wasn’t lyin; when he said you were in attendance s ‘evening!”

He turned his head to face a very inebriated man he did not recognize at first until he spotted the small crest on the man’s lapel marking him as one of June’s underlings.

“I say, s’good t’see you. June read your latess report on infusion of— “

Solas felt a sharp, stabbing pain break out over his foot as his thief stepped on it and ripped herself from his arms, shoving him back. June’s underling caught him by the shoulder and continued to talk to him despite his obvious discomfort and attempt to follow.

“—and he thinks ‘iss brilliant. You should stop by is’shop tomorrow and speak with him— “

Solas held up a hand to silence the drunken man. “You must excuse me.” Eyes scanning for his mysterious dancing thief once more. He spotted her at the edge of the room, standing beneath a large, intricately etched arch. Beautiful satin curtains were billowing behind her through the archway.

She was staring right at him. Or so he assumed, for she smiled that cold smile and pressed two gloved fingers to red lips, repeating the gesture she had given him earlier before she jumped out into the night. It was so subtle yet irritating, and he felt his spine prick with heat at the gesture.

His irritation didn’t last long though. It dissipated and was replaced with horror when a hand shot out from behind the curtain and smothered his thief’s mouth, blade appearing at her throat a second later before she was hauled behind curtain, and out of sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said I was going to post this Saturday or Sunday but I got impatient. FOR ONCE I UPDATED SOMETHING EARLY. WHAT IS HAPPENING. 
> 
> I mostly did this so I can focus tonight and tomorrow morning on updating Solas POV for Overexposed :) that update will be happening Saturday night *fingers crossed* (BUT GUESS WHAT BIRD IS STILL ON TOP OF HER SHIT BECAUSE I HAVE THE FOLLOWING VENUS POV UPDATE DONE.) I am on a roll here. 
> 
> If anyone wants to talk solavellan, or steampunk, you can find me on tumblr here:
> 
> writing blog: [littleblue-eyedbirdchirps](http://littleblue-eyedbirdchirps.tumblr.com/)!  
> personal blog: [littleblue-eyedbird](http://littleblue-eyedbird.tumblr.com/)!


	4. Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Truth is not the end, but a beginning"-Flemeth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you to Jinxiia for being a wonderful beta! <3 and also putting up with me sending her drafts at 2 am
> 
> also a HUGE shout out to Wren-bluebell for drawing two simply [AMAZING PIECES](http://wren-bluebell.tumblr.com/post/148545240553/penny-dreadwolf-3)! [OF ART](http://littleblue-eyedbirdchirps.tumblr.com/post/148647144807/littleblue-eyedbird-so-i-woke-up-this-morning)! for this fic! <3 please go check it out and fangirl over it as much as I did and smother her in love :)

The hand clamped down on her mouth before she even had the chance to register someone had snuck up behind her. She felt the cool edge of a blade being drawn lightly across her throat hard enough to issue a warning not to scream, but not enough to draw blood.

 _Yet_ , Lavellan thought.

The last thing she saw before violently being pulled through the velvet curtain was the look of sheer horror the Dread Wolf’s expression twisted into.

“Stop struggling, you’ll make this that much harder.” A hoarse voice growled into her ear, breath hot and humid against the side of her throat before she was pinned against the wall. The man looked worse for wear; his sunken face was framed with greasy strands of hair, purple shadows coloring the skin beneath his bloodshot eyes.

“We don’t have time for games, just get the device off of her and let’s go.” Another voice ordered from behind the man caging her in, feminine and impatient.

Her eyes flicked over the man’s shoulder to the woman who spoke, standing by the archway she had been hauled through. Her blonde hair pulled back into a severe bun at the nape of her neck, accentuating the square line of her jaw. She looked young, with freckles adorning the bridge of her nose and small gap between her front teeth shown through the scowl on face. She was dressed in imposing shades of dark grey and black, save for the peculiar crest on the lapel of her jacket.

_Where had she seen that insignia before?_

“You so much as breathe too loudly and I’ll slit your throat,” The pale faced man warned her, slowly removing his hand from her face and increasing the pressure of the blade on her throat marginally for emphasis, “I’d much rather not ruin your lovely evening gown.”  He glanced down at her dress, fingers trailing the fabric. She suddenly regretted wearing a such a revealing corset when his eyes roamed over her cleavage.

“What’s this?” He asked, plucking at the edge of the folded up blueprint and tugging it out.

She knew better than to scream; there was no doubt in her mind that he would make good on his threat, but that didn’t stop her from squirming. She kept her mouth shut.

She had no faith anyone would come looking for her. The Wolf was apparently no longer interested in the chase now that she had been caught. That, or Felassan was doing an exceedingly good job at distracting him, which was most unfortunate. She could have used the Wolf’s incessant stalking now more than ever. She regretted asking Felassan to intervene in the first place.

“Let me see.” The blonde woman commanded, thrusting out her hand.

The man tossed them to his accomplice who promptly unfolded them, and returned his attention to Lavellan. Her stomach churned. No one else was supposed to see those prints. This mission was rapidly spiraling out of her control.

“Samson… these are blueprints,” the blonde uttered in awe, her head snapping up to stare at Lavellan in disbelief.

“We still need the prototype,” The man, Samson, snapped.

He pulled on the gauntlet harshly, and pain erupted up her arm. She bit her lip to stop her cry of protest. Confusion muddled his pallid face as he attempted again to remove the device from her hand. She knew it would be no use, it had melded into her skin--possibly even her bones for all she knew. The device had become a part of her hand and she unable to tell where it ended and she began.

“It won’t come off.” He forcibly yanked on her hand again.

“It’s no use,” she hissed indignantly, steeling herself against the fresh current of agony and his glare, “It fused with my hand the second I put it on.”

He growled, twisting her wrist violently in frustration. This time, she couldn’t hold the screams back.

“Stop that, Samson, we won’t need it anymore. These prints are good enough.” the blonde woman reprimanded, tucking them into the lapel of her coat and crossing over to knock his hand from her wrist, “She’ll give us awa—”

She was silenced by the impact of another body slamming into her, sending her sprawling to the floor.

Samson recoiled in shock at the six-eyed assailant as he turned on him. Her opportunity had arisen. She bit Samson’s gloved hand and his blade clattered to the floor.

He cried out as she lashed out, uppercutting him with her elbow sending his head reeling. He recovered and swung at her face. She easily dodged his sloppy blow, blocking his swing with her gauntlet encased hand. She kicked him square in the chest, launching him back into Fen’Harel who tripped her captor and knocked him to the ground.

“Did he hurt you?” Fen’Harel asked quickly, stepping over the bleeding man and scanning her throat.

“I’m fine,” she said breathlessly, “thank y— “

Lavellan heard the click of a safety being released and spun around to see the blonde woman aiming a gun, an illegal raygun model she noted, directly at her head from her kneeling position on the floor.

The Wolf rushed forward to step between them.

Her heart stopped beating for what felt like a solid minute as the two stared each other down. She vaguely registered that the music in the dance hall had abruptly stopped, and panicked voices were rising in alarm.

 _Run_ , she thought, _run now while everyone is distracted_.

But she couldn’t find it in herself to flee. She couldn’t let Fen’Harel get hurt on her behalf. That wasn’t a part of the plan. His interference wasn’t a part of the plan. She stepped up behind him, placing firm grip on his bicep in an attempt to get him to stand down. He didn’t. He lifted his arm to further shield her, or hold her back. Or both.

“Samson, get up. We’re leaving.” the blonde woman declared, slowly rising to her full height, her eyes never leaving the Wolf.

A groan and shuffle sounded from their right as Samson stumbled to his feet, clutching his bloody, most likely broken, nose. He shot them a piercing glare as he hobbled over to his partner. They backed away slowly until they reached the end of the hall and bolted out of sight.

She started to give chase, but the Wolf rounded on her.

She made a brief noise of protest, “We can’t let them escape— “

He cut her off immediately, “Do you understand now what kind of danger you have placed your— “

“Listen to me, they— “

“You nearly got yourself killed, is that what you wa— “

“ _No_. I didn’t expect— “

“Exactly. You did not think this through. You could have _died_. And you still want to chase after them?”

“They have your blue prints!” She yelled exasperatedly, and the color drained from what was visible of his face.

He took a half a step back.

“… What...?”

She rolled her aching wrist, and glowered in the direction the other two thugs had disappeared.

“The brutish one, Samson, he reached into my corset and lifted them just before you showed up.” She confessed, not looking at him. She didn’t want to see his reaction.

She heard him heave an aggravated sigh.

“Who are they,”

“I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do. Who are they,” he asked again.

“I don’t know them _personally_ , but I think I have an idea of who they work for,” She admitted, the entwined dragon and snake insignia on the woman’s lapel flashing in her mind.

If they were working for who she thought they were working for, this whole mess of an evening just got one hundred times more complicated.

“The same person you work for, perhaps?”

“Absolutely not,” she refuted, finally looking at him.

“So you are working for someone then, who?” He probed.

_Shit._

She swallowed and took a step away as he took one closer, heart hammering in her chest. She didn’t want to have to lie to him. If she told him the truth about who sent her, it would only hurt him more.

“Miss, is he harassing you?” Someone called to her, disrupting his interrogation.

They both looked over. Patrons had begun spilling out in the corridor, investigating the commotion.

She hoped foolishly in time he would forgive her, if they ever met again for what she was about to do  

“Yes! Yes! Help me!” She cried shrilly, throwing a hand dramatically over her chest for good measure.

Fen’Harel made an appalled gasp of protest and took three steps away from her, hands put up in a placating gesture as some of the guests closed in on him.

“I would never!” He flustered, turning back to glare at her, or at least she assumed it was glare based on the way his nose scrunched in distaste under his mask.

It wasn’t fair to throw him under like this, not after he saved her, but she was desperate. She could feel guilty about her actions later, when she had time. This might be the only chance she had to finally shake him from her trail. She needed to find Abelas and plan how to get those blue prints back. She was beginning to worry about him. It was extremely unlike him to be missing in action like this.

She offered the Wolf an apologetic smile over the crowd converging on him.

She could handle him looking angry, in fact she had hoped he would yell, or fight back. But instead, he just looked defeated.

Her conscience was going to rip her to shreds later over this.

She slipped away from the mob and started down the hall, running away from the guilt and shame and towards one of the widows left a jar. This time, when she reached for her hook, her fingers weren’t so steady. She aimed for the lamp post across the street, tugging on the steel wire after the hook secured itself.

There was a high-pitched, feminine scream, “ _She’s going to jump! Stop her_!”

She almost looked back as she stepped up on the ledge. Almost.

She felt strong arms circle around her waist as she leapt off the edge. She only needed one guess to know who had tagged along for the ride. The unexpected additional weight threw off her entire equilibrium and they crash landed into the street in heap of tangled limbs and petticoats much sooner than she had anticipated. She found herself pinned beneath the Wolf in quite an immodest position when they finally stopped rolling from the impact.

She didn’t have much of a choice but to look up at him, feeling her face and spine heat up at his proximity. His mask had gotten knocked askew and one of the red lenses had cracked. He gasped the moment he realized he had been laying atop of her, and immediately pushed himself away, an apology on his lips as she sat up and hurriedly righted the layers of her dress to cover herself.

“I am terribly sorry, I— “ he cleared his throat, “forgive me.”  

His cheeks were turning the loveliest shade of pink in the glow from the lamppost as he extended a hand to help her up.

She accepted it gingerly, swaying as she stood and wincing when she had to latch onto his shoulder with her gauntlet encased hand to stop herself from falling over.

“What were you thinking?” He asked scornfully.

“I could ask the same of you,” she countered, quickly putting as much space between them as she could when she noticed she was leaning into him, feeling her own ears flush at her impropriety.

“I could not let you escape.”

“You could have. You would have made both of our lives easier.”

“How exactly?” He inquired, tilting his head to the side, his mask still slightly askew, “You stole a very reticent piece of technology, and in the wrong hands has the potential to cause more harm than good!”

“I am aware of that _now_. I didn’t know that _then_. I was told it was preliminary model. Not the actual device. I was misinformed,” she heard herself explain defensively, she was way in over her head now. The Wolf would not leave her side, her backup was nowhere in sight, and she was running out of options. She needed to come clean before she made an even bigger mess. “This device,” she held up her hand and rippled her fingers, “is a mistake. I can’t let you follow with finalizing it. Especially if the Venatori are also after it— “

“Venatori,” he repeated slowly.

“Venatori, yes. The group I believe that man and woman belong to; the ones that stole your blue prints from me,” she offered when he didn’t say anything else.

She didn’t like the way his expression darkened.

“I have heard the name before, but only in passing rumors. I did not think of them as a threat.” He said, mulling over the new information, “And now they have my designs.”

“I should not have taken your blueprints.” She conceded quietly. Taking them wasn’t a part of the original plan either.

“You shouldn’t have taken anything at all!”.

“Look, I made a mistake,” she confessed, “One I intend to rectify, if you’d let me. I need to report back to her and— “

“Her?” Fen’Harel’s tone turned accusatory.

Lavellan froze. She had said too much.

“Who sent you,” he demanded, eliminating the space she had so carefully put between them. She matched his stance.

“Don’t ask me that.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

“Who. Sent. You.”

“You won’t like my answer,” she replied coldly.

He took a sharp breath, his expression twisting painfully beneath his mask. He looked as though he knew what she was going to say, but didn’t want it to be true. She knew this would wound him, which was why her mentor had explicitly commanded her not to get caught.

Fen’Harel wasn’t supposed to find out the All-Mother was plotting against him.

But he had forced her hand.

“I need to hear it.” He asked softly.

“Mythal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next update is planned for friday night! <3
> 
> thank you for all the kudos and comments, I love reading them! :D <3 (and fan art Wren!! I'm still not over it and I look at it all the time and squeal)


	5. The Secrets of Servants

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan comes clean... partially.

“ _Mythal_?” Solas heard himself choke out, stumbling a step back from the woman in front of him.

He felt as if someone has doused him in ice water.

_Mythal?_

A thousand conflicting emotions tore through him, rage, confusion, despair, and an overwhelming sense of pain. And then denial. This thief _had_ to be lying. Mythal would never betray him like this… would she?

“Impossible. Tell the truth. Who truly sent you.” He let the anger rise in his voice, but made no attempt to return closer.

Tearing her goggles from her face, the woman raised her head high, the truth blazing visibly in her piercing green eyes.

He tilted his head as he studied her now bared face. The high cheek bones, stern expression and piercing stare. He had seen her face before…

“Mythal,” she declared defiantly.

“No… no…,” he said disbelievingly despite her reiteration, still racking his brain to figure out where he recognized her from.

“I told you not to press. She never wanted you to find out. But you just could not let it go.”

He ripped his own mask off in agitation, cradling his face with his free hand. He knew he had seen her before. But his mind was being disagreeable, being torn in five different directions all at once. Mythal. His prototype. The Venatori. His future. This thief.  It was too much to process, he needed to focus on one thing at a time. A dull ache was arcing around the crown of his head, and he massaged his temples in an attempt to alleviate the budding pain.

The All-Mother knew of his plans already, helped him devise them! There was no need for her to go behind his back and send someone to sabotage all his tireless years of work… and for what? He had shown her the prototype before. Why would she feel the need to steal it from him?

None of this made sense, but figuring how Mythal’s motives, and who this thief was seemed a good place to start.

“Why. Why would send someone to steal from me. She could have asked me to see my progress herself. I could have showed her its development personally. Why do _this_?” His long winded inquiry was met with a steeled gaze.

“Mythal did not share all of her motives with me,” she replied in clipped tone.

 “Tell me what you know.”

“Why should I? I’ve already said too much. I’ll be in enough trouble as it is that I’ve been discovered. I’ve… never been caught before.”

“Before? So you have stolen for her previously,” he barked a cold laugh, “just when I thought the All-Mother was above all the petty and shady backhanded behavior.”

“No one is perfect,” she said threateningly.

He took a step forward, forcing her to step back into the enclosed alleyway as he stared her down. Waiting for a better explanation. She didn’t seem inclined to give one.

“Who are you,” he finally asked.

He was met with continued silence.

He huffed, gesturing at the dead end alley way they were standing in, “You have nowhere else to go, I quite literally have you cornered.”

More silence, and an unnerving glare.

“I should take you before Mythal myself and—“

“No!” she cried, finally breaking his silent treatment, her piercing expression cracking in fear for a moment before she reigned herself back in, “No, please. You cannot do that.”

“Why not? _Explain yourself_.”

“You do not understand… it is complicated.”

“Then make me understand.”

She let out a distressed cry and raised both of her hands to her face, flinching when the gauntlet got too close to her skin. She quickly dropped her hands to her sides, balling them into fists, before shutting her eyes and taking a deep breath. It appeared as if she was counting to ten. The tension stirring within her was rolling off in tangible waves.

He gave her a moment to collect her thoughts.

“Can I trust you?” she asked suddenly.

He was taken aback. “ _What_?”

“If I divulge this information, can I trust you to keep it between us?” she asked once more, urgently, flicking her eyes open to meet his.

“I think you are in no position to ask that of me.”

“I _need_ to know if I’ll be able trust you with this. I need you to promise you won’t go to Mythal. If she were to find out…,” she trailed off, anxiously biting her lip.

Something in her tone unsettled him deeply. It was beginning to dawn on him this woman might not have had a choice in the matter…

And that would upset him even more if he learned she was ordered against her will to carry out an illegal act. But no. Mythal would not force someone to commit a crime like this. She did not keep servants any more.

 _She promised_.

“I will listen to what you have to say, and then decide what course of action is necessary,” he said slowly, that unsettling feeling churning more intensely in his gut, “but that is the best I can offer at this point. You are requesting I put my trust blindly in you. And you have proven nothing to me to earn it.”

He heard her let out a defeated breath before he added, “But I will give you a chance to prove it.”

There was a flash of relief in her eyes that she quickly masked with a hard glare.

“If that’s the best you can offe—“

A loud crash and several muttered curses made both of them jump. Someone was approaching, and doing a terrible job at it.

“It’s not safe here,” she quickly side stepped around him before snatching his elbow and pulling him out of the alley way, “we should move somewhere more discreet.”

 “Miss—excuse me!” He protested, appalled at her nerve of grabbing his hand and yanking him through the streets unexpectedly, “Where do you think you are taking me?”

“My safehouse.”

“No. We should return to _my_ workshop,” he stated, planting his feet firmly on the cobblestone road, tugging back on her hand and forcing her to lurch forward before stumbling back into him, “There you can give me a proper explanation for this madness, and I can attempt to remove the device from your hand before it’s too late.”

She gave him a hard look. “My safehouse will have all the tools you need, Wolf, besides I don’t want to risk running around Evanuris Corp right now. If Mythal is watching, or happens to see us together…”

It would condemn the both of them.

“Ah. I had not thought of that.”

He glanced down at their hands and swallowed. They were still linked together.

“Exactly.” She reported caustically with a subtle jut of her chin.

Before he could scold her back, more voices sounded up the street from where they had been arguing a few minutes before. 

“We best get moving. I expect a full explanation when we arrive.”

They both took off walking at the same time, hand in hand.

She nodded sharply, “Follow me, quietly.”

And so he did. She led him down several dimly lit alleyways, keeping the shadows where the light of the lampposts could not reach. He noted they were slowly making their way out of the upper districts of Arlathan and into the lower division of Elvhenan, close to the human sector’s boundary line. She abruptly severed their connection, dropping his hand and darting out of cover to approach the worn door of what looked to be an abandoned building around the corner. He saw her hands slip under her dress and quickly averted his eyes, feeling his ears prickle with heat. It would be rude of him to watch her digging through her petticoats.

 _Just how many things can she store under her skirts_?

Apparently a set of lock picks also fit somewhere in the depths of those pale purple ruffles. She managed to crack the lock in a matter of seconds. The old oak door creaked as she pushed it aside, stepping into the small store front. At first glance, it was an out of commission repair shop. Solas dragged his fingers over the neglected counter coated with dust and tutted in disgust. She caught him by the wrist and motioned violently to stop moving. She quickly shut the door and relocked it, opening an old circuit board along the wall in the next second. She typed something on the console and he heard a faint hiss and clack. She breathed out loudly. He brushed his fingers on his vest as she turned to face him.

“Had to reset the alarm, otherwise we would be in quite the predicament.”

“Mm,” he acknowledged, studying her face. She crossed her arms uncomfortably. “You promised an explanation,” he reminded her sternly.

She shifted her weight and shuffled away from the door, her skirts billowing in response. She looked away. Ashamed.

“I did. And you kept your word and followed me here without question,” she sighed.

“Indeed. I’m waiting.”

When she spoke again, her voice was soft, and measured.

“I once was no one, nothing. A lowly child of a nameless inventor in Lowtown. Or so I thought, until the All-Mother stepped into my life and reinvented my world. Everything that I had led to believe had been a lie. For that, I owe my life to her,” she stated quietly, finally meeting his eyes, “I do whatever she asks of me, I take on whatever form, person, or mask she needs me to be. I do not question. I obey.”

“You are her tool,” he observed, disgusted.

That unsettled feeling flared in his gut, confirming his suspicions about her origins.

She laughed, and it was a cruel, sad sound. One that reminded him a little too much of Mythal.  “In a way, yes. I think you are familiar with the notion, seeing as you were her _tool_ once too.”

A memory came rushing back at the gentle reminder, and he placed her face immediately. A young serving girl slipping him a small pastry during an afternoon tea at Mythal’s estate, a finger hovering over her lips in a hushing gesture before dipping out of sight. It was a long forgotten memory back when he had been indentured to the All-Mother as one of her elite inventors. Before he broke from servitude and liberated himself.

“I…remember you…you are one of her chosen.”

His realization was met with a sharp shrug.

“I believe she likes to throw around the phrase ‘ _champion of her craft_ ’, she says it ‘ _has a nice ring to it’_.”

“She abolished indentured servitude after I destroyed the position.” He said indignantly.

 “Yes, well she still has her _favorites_.” She angrily shoved up the sleeve of her unmarked hand, revealing unmistakable slave tattoo on her forearm.

He reflexively touched the scar on his own forearm where he had burned off her markings long ago.

“She saw the error of her ways, she promised—“

“She’s kept her promise. No more indenturing elven servants. But nothing was done for the Mechs and others who had already been marked. Save for you.”

No wonder this woman couldn’t stand him. He represented everything she couldn’t have.

“She treats us well, I am lucky to be hers and not any of the other Evanuris,” she continued in his appalled silence, “Mythal has given me much, and for that I am grateful. An education, a career, a life…”

“But it is not your own,” he answered solemnly.

“If I fail this mission—“

“Your life is on the line.”

“I would go as far to be that grim and fatalistic,” she quipped, ire receding as she righted her sleeve, “But I’d rather not make enemies with one of the most powerful women in Thedas. Not when she holds such leverage over me.”

He thought figuring out the thief was would answer most of his questions, but he was wrong. It just gave him a longer list of things to confront Mythal about.

“But it’s not just that…” There was shame in her eyes as she looked her encased her hand, “I do not want to let her down.”

“I understand,” he said quietly, “But you should not feel guilty. You should have never been put in his position, and for that I apologize. I did not mean to antagonize you so. My anger was misplaced,” he offered, though the residual rage was still brewing inside him.

He truly understood the notion all too well. When he had served Mythal, he wanted nothing more than to earn her affection, to prove his worth so that she would proud of his accomplishments. There was something very maternal in the way Mythal treated those under her care. It was part of her charm, a lethal one that persuaded people to sell themselves to her in the first place.

But that was in the past. Or so he thought.

There was an awkward pause before she spoke to him again.

“Can you trust me now?”

“In all honesty, I do not know if I can, or even if I should.”

“Let me rephrase then. Will you trust me enough to let me try to solve this,” she inquired, gesturing to the device on her hand, “my way? And if all else fails, then I’ll defer to you.”

He considered her. The circumstances in which he found himself entangled with her were not ideal, there was too much at stake, too much on the line for the both of them.

“I can try.”

Seemingly satisfied with his response she beckoned him to follow once more, crossing the room to push aside the basement door, “Well then, welcome to _my_ personal headquarters, Dread Wolf.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you'll meet Cole next chapter!


End file.
